


Swimmingly

by WastingYourGum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 23:57:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: Mycroft is forced to face the horrors of a public pool for his daily swim and finds something that may get him in over his head...





	Swimmingly

"Thank you, Anthea. Anything else?"

"The annual maintenance on the endless pool at your townhouse is being performed today and they've found an issue with the filtration system. Unfortunately the recent weather means the parts they need to replace will take at least three days to deliver."

Mycroft rubbed his temples slowly. The world seemed determined to vex him today.

"Can you inform my driver I'll be going home via the gym tonight and have my swimming apparel placed in the car?"

"The pool at your gym is out of action until tomorrow - they over-chlorinated."

"Oh, for heavens…"

"There is a reservation booked in your name from 7 to 8pm at a nearby public pool should you wish," Anthea interjected.

After a moment's cogitation Mycroft relented. The need for the refreshment of mind and body provided by his daily swim outweighed - just - the distasteful thought of a pool frequented by the great unwashed.

"Very well. Thank you, Anthea. "

"Sir."

On arrival at said pool later that evening, he had to concede that it looked clean and well maintained, which allayed some of his worst fears.

The posted schedule declared the 6 to 7pm booking to be something which abbreviated to "MAM". Mycroft pondered various possibilities; "Mothers" seemed most likely which would at least mean he should have the male changing rooms to himself.

Pushing open the changing room doors swiftly removed that hope; there were clear signs of recent occupation and at least 8 of the lockers were in use.

Should he change now and risk being caught mid-disrobe or wait until the current swimmers had all changed and left, eating into his valuable time? He decided he would chance it. There were still 12 minutes to the hour, hopefully "MAM" - _Men's something something?_ \- would be using all of their allotted time and he could pass them in the short corridor between the locker room and pool as they finished and he began.

He changed as quickly as possible under his towel then kept it around his shoulders as he sat down on a bench and listened for approaching feet and voices, still with a few minutes to spare.

Those minutes passed.

Then a few more.

This was unacceptable. This was now Mycroft's reserved time. He would have to make his presence known.

He stood up, paddled through the shallow footbath and turned the corner to the pool.

He was greeted by a symmetrical forest of hairy legs sticking straight up out of the water. They slid back beneath the surface which swirled with intriguing eddies and currents before a body suddenly shot into the air and back flipped to land with a huge splash. Mycroft took an instinctive step back though it landed several feet short of hitting him.

Eight black-capped heads broke the surface, the last of which was the back-flipped person who slapped the water in disappointment.

"Ah, bollocks! Sorry guys, I over-rotated. My fault."

He was reassured by a chorus of commiseration: "no problem," "you'll get it next time," "nearly".

"Excuse me?" Mycroft called.

Eight heads turned in unison, presenting Mycroft with a view of identical goggles and nose-clips.

"Sorry to interrupt but I believe your booking finished at 7?"

The eight heads turned again as one to look at the clock on the pool wall, then started swimming rapidly to the pool side, issuing loud apologies. "Shit!", "Sorry mate!", "Didn't notice the time!", "We'll be right out!", " _Mycroft_?"

Mycroft froze at the sound of his name.

Seven male bodies of varying ages, weights, shapes and sizes barged past him. The eighth had stopped at the side of the pool. As Mycroft watched it was pushed up on strong forearms and turned mid-air to land sitting on the edge. Cap, nose clip and goggles were then removed to confirm Mycroft's horrified suspicion and reveal the familiar face of Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, a man he had admired from a careful and strategic distance for some while.

"I thought that was you." Lestrade smiled at him and stood up, scattering droplets of light like some mystical aquatic deity, water cascading off broad chest and shoulders, running in rivulets down firm, masculine thighs and _stop it stop it stop it!_

Lestrade walked slowly towards Mycroft, scrubbing his fingers through his cap-flattened hair. He held up the culprit.

"Hate wearing this thing. Makes my head itch something rotten but needs must."

"Your hair should be protected," Mycroft blurted before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, place we used to go to still had some lead pipes - my hair was gradually turning green until I started wearing one of these!"

Mycroft had never been so grateful to be misunderstood.

"Do you - do you swim often, then?"

"Work permitting, yeah. Me and the lads meet up one or two times a week. Middle-aged Mermen - that's us."

And so the mysterious initials were explained.

Lestrade leaned against the tiled wall and twirled the cap round in his fingers, holding it somewhere near his midriff.

Mycroft had never fully registered before the striking _thickness_ of those fingers. He tore his gaze away from them, also hastily bypassing the damp curls of chest hair and looked up into Lestrade's grinning face.

"Do you compete?"

"God no!" Lestrade laughed. "None of us can really commit to the time that would need. This is just for fun, nothing serious."

"You looked very professional."

"Oh? Thanks. I'll pass that on. What about you? You booked the whole pool for yourself? Is this a new thing?"

"I swim every day in my pool at home but it's undergoing maintenance at the moment. This is just for tonight."

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ you have a pool at home - I bet it's one of those really fancy ones with the current you can swim against, isn't it?"

Mycroft nodded. "An endless pool, yes."

"I always fancied trying one of those. Must save a bit of space too?"

"Yes, it--, " Mycroft hesitated, though he was unsure why. "It allowed me to install a hot tub as well."

"Ohhhh, now you're just being cruel. There are days I'd cheerfully murder someone for 15 minutes in a hot tub. I'd have to arrest myself right after but it'd be worth it."

"You would be most welcome to use mine."

Mycroft blinked. Those words appeared to have issued from his mouth with absolutely no intervention from his brain whatsoever.

"I -- I mean.. If you wanted to! And I would not be present, of course!" he hastily added.

"That's a shame." Lestrade pushed himself off the wall. He peered past Mycroft towards the changing rooms and moved to stand only a few thick fingers distance from him. "You in those Speedos would be the main attraction."

"What?"

"Mycroft, if you drool anymore you'll have to start using your towel to mop it up. And if you stand there looking at me like that - and _looking_ like that - much longer, I'm going to have to use my towel to cover the hard-on you're giving me."

"You-- I-- _what_?"

"I'm sure I can find some reason to linger after my mates have gone. Twenty lengths, Mister Holmes, quick as you like - and I'll be waiting."

He brushed past Mycroft and as he left, gave him a cheeky pat on the backside and whispered, "Maybe give you another length once you're finished those."

Mycroft processed that for a few seconds then flung his towel to one side, strode to the water's edge and dived in.

He had a feeling he was about to achieve his personal best...

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the [recent pictures](http://gravesdiggers.tumblr.com/tagged/swimming%20with%20men) of Rupert Graves in upcoming film "Swimming With Men".


End file.
